Fyra
by coeurgryffondor
Summary: Sometimes Lukas finds himself in a funk, but Berwald is always willing to search for a cure. / SuNor SuNor SuNor!


Author's note: **ducere** drew more naught SuNor and they are perfection, so I wrote four little bits to go with them. :D You can find them on her Tumblr or linked to on my writing Tumblr.

* * *

**Fyra**

Lukas is in a funk, laying on the couch. His moods used to last for years; the doctor calls it clinical depression, he calls it lack-of-love because for all his appearances, Lukas really hates to be alone, to be separated from the ones he loves. So he lays on the couch in his new house, watching clouds gather for storms that once excited him but today do little for his mood. The moods used to last centuries though now he is free to seek out whom he wants when he wants.

Someone finishes descending the stairs, Berwald moving slowly around the back of the couch to sit at its end, lifting one of Lukas's legs to kiss at the ankle.

"I'm not in the mood," the Norwegian sighs though those warm lips electrify him.

"Nonsense," Berwald murmurs, always grinning against his pale skin. He leans forward, stealing his lover's lips for his own as large hands begin to unbutton Lukas's shirt, the smaller nation shifting to allow its removal from his body. When the Swede moves to sit Lukas pulls his shirt up, laying back down to watch Berwald pull it off all the way.

Long, thin fingers reach out to run across the lines of that chest, Lukas using his leg to hook his bare foot behind the Swedish head. Berwald lets him do as he wants, eyes closed, breathing deep and slow and controlled.

"Still not in the mood?" He purrs the words, if Berwald Oxenstierna was capable of such a thing, his hands running up Lukas's thighs as his lips fall over his chest, kissing and nipping across the pale skin.

With his foot he pushes at Berwald's shoulder, nudging him back in time to let their eyes lock as hands cup his erection through his pants. "Changing my mind," Lukas finally admits, face flushing a little. The Swede with his blank face only groans in response, palming him harder.

* * *

In the bedroom the Norwegian pushes his lover back against the wall, falling to his knees. The moan that escapes Berwald at that is one of pure bliss and anticipation, hands threading through Lukas's hair. As he gets the zip, lowering it slowly to give the Norwegian nation ample time to admire the way his lover's briefs hang off his hips, he feels hands threading through his hair. His cross hairpin is gentle tugged out as he pushes the jeans down.

"Fucking hell," Berwald manages, his breathing hitched. Lukas lets his fingers play with hard lines that disappear beneath those deep red briefs, his lips following the light trail of hair. Something hard presses into the side of his face as he kisses lower, Lukas turning his head expertly to kiss the cock through the fabric. "Fuck," and the Swede really holds out the word, eyes to the ceiling as he lets his head roll back.

It only makes the Norwegian smirk, fingers pulling down those briefs.

* * *

His naked body is pulled to Berwald already sitting on the mattress, mouths meeting in sloppy kisses. Strong arms sweep under his ass to hold him up as Lukas grips at Swedish thighs. One of the hands pressing into his body is holding his hairpin; he can feel the cool metal against one of his ass cheeks, his tongue entering Berwald's mouth. The other hand with its slick fingers pushes into him, making the Norwegian moan in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

Against his skin, tongue licking over the hot flesh, Berwald manages, "Pappas smutsiga lilla hora", Papa's dirty little whore. His lover laughs at that, his head rolling back to allow a volley of kisses and licks over his Adam's apple, the sensation of fingers preparing him overwhelming.

Then the fingers remove themselves and something better presses against him.

"Want you now," Lukas demands, taking back Berwald's mouth as the Swede complies, shifting his arms to allow the smaller man to come down on his erection. "Yes," he moans against those lips, over and over.

The Norwegian body moves up and down, feeling the friction against his own cock as it rubs between their two torsos. He grips Berwald's thighs tighter, sucking on the man's tongue.

"Want," he tries to continue, Swedish kingdom stealing his breath away. "Want to come, in your mouth." His lover likes to come inside him, which Lukas doesn't mind, but he hates being sticky with semen when he can make a mess of Berwald instead.

"Svenska," the response comes, their bodies tilting back slightly so Berwald can really hit that spot inside Lukas.

With a gasp he finally spits out, "Sug min kuk." Berwald smirks.

"As you wish beloved."

* * *

Short hair glides easily through his hand, the other playing with the side of Berwald's cheek to feel its heat. The soft bed beneath Lukas gives easily as he thrusts into the willing mouth, back arched and eyes closed.

He imagines the stoic Swede set on his task, locked between quivering thighs as he sucks and licks Lukas's cock. One hand assists him, playing with his base; Berwald needs his other hand to steady Lukas's thrusts lest he break his nose. Again.

Gasps, barely audible, seem to echo loudly throughout the room as Berwald, without hesitation, carries on. The dedication he puts into getting his lover off is admirable, Lukas always thinks after, because his mind is clear of any thoughts now beyond Berwald around him, Berwald consuming him, Berwald loving him.

The hair is tugged painfully as the Norwegian nation comes, groaning quietly as his lover continues. And as he comes down from his high Berwald continues, licking up every last drop before releasing him.

Dark blue eyes open to take in the ceiling, Lukas trying to regain his breath, before he looks down to see unfocused sea-green eyes watching him. There's still a look of lust on his lover's face, mixed in with a sort of passion that only he ever gets to see.

"Jag älskar dig," the Norwegian sighs, stroking the side of a sweaty face. Berwald presses his nose into the palm of Lukas's hand, kissing at his fingers without looking away from him.

The large man shifts to lay between his thighs, his chin resting on Lukas's chest. "Jeg elsker deg," he hums with a mischievous grin and that makes his lover laugh.


End file.
